


open and closed wounds

by 99royalty



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blood, F/M, Mutual Pining, mentions of past undercover things, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 06:53:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5818417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/99royalty/pseuds/99royalty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jake and Amy arrest a perp, end up in hospital, and Amy learns more about Jake's life undercover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	open and closed wounds

**Author's Note:**

> Set somewhere between Undercover and Jake and Sophia.

“Criminals are never timely. You noticed that?”

“Mm,” says Amy, eyes on the building across the street from where she and Jake are parked, the same building they've been staring at for almost an hour now. “No respect for our cop schedules.” 

“Right?” says Jake.

Holt has sent them to an apartment complex miles from the precinct under intel that their collar, a man called Tom Porter, is due to seek someone out here at some point this afternoon. Porter is a high profile burglar who’s stolen at least twenty thousand dollars’ worth of jewellery, and Amy and Jake have been seeking him out for weeks now. Depressingly, this is the only lead they've had in a while. So far today has included a lot of sitting around and waiting, but they’re both determined to stick it out if it means a chance at catching Porter. 

Jake sighs, leaning back in his seat. “We should totally get some drinks here after we’re done at the precinct later, you know. There’s this ah-mazing bar around the corner, okay. I’ve only been twice but it’s the coolest ever. It has a mini palm trees in tiny pots.”

“Only if you’re the designated driver afterwards this time. This case has been a nightmare.” Before Jake can give any reply to that though, she remembers something. “Oh–! Wait, I can’t, I forgot. I'm meeting with Teddy tonight for dinner. I have to leave as soon as we’re done. As long as we’re done sometime before five, which actually looks unlikely with this guy.”

“Oh.” Amy turns to her partner in time to see disappointment flicker across his face for a moment, along with something more unreadable, something sort of like bitterness ( _or jealousy_ , says a guilty voice in Amy’s head as she recalls what Jake told her before he disappeared from her life for six months). Seconds later though he’s grinning, looking straight ahead and drumming his fingers on his lap. “That’s okay, maybe I’ll invite Charles over here or something, he’ll be reasonable enough to catch a cab with me after, anyway.”

Amy shakes her head and tries to hide her smile. Truth be told, the last few dates with Teddy haven’t been as fun as they have been in the past, and she feels suddenly guilty on realising that she might have a better time with Jake at this dumb palm tree bar. She’s not about to cancel on Teddy though; he’s her boyfriend, even if they have been having some issues lately. 

“Hey –” Jake sits up suddenly, nodding toward the apartment block. “Looks like our guy.” Sure enough, a white male of Porter’s description is walking slowly toward the building they’ve been staring at for the past few hours.

“Finally. Okay, we should surprise him when he’s inside,” says Amy. Jake nods in agreement and they wait a moment for him to disappear into the apartment before hurrying after him.

The building is quiet, most people working or else staying inside of their rooms. Jake and Amy head toward the room number Holt gave them and soon find Porter just as he’s about to unlock the door. Jake is a little ahead, and his gun is out once they reach the perp. “NYPD – freeze!” he shouts. 

Porter doesn’t freeze (why do they never freeze?), making a break for the stairs as soon as he spots their badges. The Detectives are quick to pursue, agreeing to split up in the hope of blocking him off before he gets out the building. 

Amy gets the longer route, and once it’s clear that Porter’s chosen to head out the back of the building, she’s hurrying back there, behind Jake. She rounds the corner to the parking lot in time to see Jake and the perp struggling together between two parked cars. 

Amy hurries toward them, and at first she lets herself relax a little, because it looks like Jake has things under control, pulling Porter up against one of the cars. But all it takes is a second for things to derail. It happens too quickly for her to see much except for Porter’s elbow coming up to hit Jake in the face, catching him off guard. His arm comes up again and he seems to strike Jake in the arm before running off. Or trying to.

Either Porter doesn't see Amy, or he doesn’t see her as a threat. She wouldn’t be surprised by that; she’s used to perps underestimating her. Either way, Amy sees him running right toward her and wastes no time in incapacitating him quickly. He trips and falls quickly. After she’s got him in handcuffs, she turns her attention back to her partner, who’s hurrying over to join her.

“You okay?” It’s then she sees the sleeve of his right arm growing red around his bicep. “Jake! Shit, you’re bleeding.”

“Oh. Yeah, a little. Or woah, a little more.” He holds his right hand against the wound, blood now trickling down his arm. Now he’s noticed it, the pain seems to overcome the adrenalin from before and he winces. “He— He had a knife. You got it?”

Amy is running her hand over the perp’s pockets before Jake even mentions the knife, eventually finding it hidden under his sleeve. Porter is swearing up a storm, but she has a firm grip and is pretty confident she can get him to the car.

“Call for an ambulance,” she tells Jake firmly. “I’ll take this guy in and meet you at the hospital later.”

“What? No, I’m okay. We can take this guy in and I’ll clean it up properly at the precinct. It’s really not hospital worthy.”

“Jake—” she starts, frustrated but not surprised.

“I’m serious. It’s not as bad as it looks.” 

If this were a year earlier she’d have thought it might be because he was afraid she’d take the credit for someone they got together. But the bet’s over. He’s just being stubborn and proud and annoying.

Jake is heading over to the car before Amy can protest, and with an agitated criminal struggling with her, she has little choice but to follow him, putting Porter in the back easily enough. As they’re on their way back though, Amy is unable to ignore the constant hisses of pain and the fact that blood is dripping to Jake’s pants. 

“Okay,” she says firmly, after the third time Jake has made a noise better described as a high squeal. “I’m driving you to the hospital.” 

“What?” Jake turns to her. She isn’t looking at him, but straight ahead at the road. Nonetheless, he seems to realise that she isn’t negotiating with him on this. He sighs. “Fine, but the perp—”

“’Calling for back up,” she interrupts, and goes into autopilot as she calls the station. She can hear the perp in the back making a fuss, but he’s in handcuffs in a police vehicle, not likely to be a problem if they take a detour. “They’ll meet us at the hospital. Just – keep it elevated, keep pressure on it.”

“I know, I know – I’m – ow, ow, I’m doing all that. Your, uh, car seat’s still getting a kinda bloody though,” says Jake in a strained voice, and Amy wants to hit him, because why would that matter right now? Any other time, maybe, yes, certainly, but _now?_

“Jake, shut the hell up, you know that doesn’t matter right now.”

“It… doesn’t?” he asks, his voice low.

“No,” she says sharply, and turns briefly to glare at him. He’s grinning at her a little, which makes her angrier and somehow makes her want to smile back. He must do that on purpose. 

They get to the hospital ten minutes later, and luckily back up arrives for Porter around the same time. Amy realises she could have done without them, really. She could have dropped off Jake at the hospital and taken Porter to the precinct by herself. But she’s also kind of glad she didn’t. 

Amy stands by her decision to take him here, and the nurses agree it was better to be safe than sorry, though Jake was right about it not being as bad as it looked. Regardless, it _does_ need stitches, three of them. The nurse disappears briefly to get some bandages for him, and while they wait Jake talks about the case, about Die Hard, about what Holt will say about this tomorrow, and about all manner of things.

Amy isn’t really listening though. Jake has taken his jacket and hoodie off, the sleeve of his t-shirt pushed up to his shoulder. It’s not the muscles of his upper arm that have her attention, or the tiny freckles sitting there (though she’d be lying if she said that sort of thing hasn’t gotten her attention in the past, especially recently). No, instead it’s the mark just below his wound, a round, dark scar she’s never noticed there before.

“Ames…? Amy!”

Amy realises too late that Jake’s been trying to get her attention while she’s sat here staring at his bicep. “Wh- What?”

“Seriously?” He laughs at her expression. “It’s okay. I know you’re probably distracted and freaking out over how badass I looked while we were taking down that perp back there.”

“I think you’ll find I did _all_ the taking down. You got yourself stabbed.”

“Ah, technicalities.” He frowns, and she realises (again, too late) that her expression must be betraying her. “Why do you keep looking at me like that?”

“I – just—” Amy nods at the scar, bothered more than she thinks she should be. “What is that?”

“Hm?” Jake looks down at his bicep, and would probably try and flex it if there wasn’t a painful gash with fresh stitches making that difficult. “You talking about my big, bulking biceps? I don’t blame you for staring.”

“No, you… weirdo, I’m talking about that huge scar on your arm. I haven’t seen that before.”

At that, Jake immediately raises a brow, smirking.

“Not – that I look – Jake, you know what I mean!” She’s shoves him a little. She’s seen him topless before. It’s never been a sexual thing. (Or… it wasn’t, before he went and told her he liked her.)

“I know, I know.” He holds up his hands. “You’re detail oriented like any good Detective.” 

“Exactly.”

“Like how you can always tell whenever I’ve had orange soda, mayo and chicken fingers by looking over at my desk. That’s a strange skill.” 

“Hm, you’re not a tidy eater. Also, it’s one of the only meals you eat.”

“And I’ll always stand by both of those decisions,” Jake says, grinning. “But in any case, _this_ is a new scar.” He looks down at his bicep again and his voice is all bravado, even proud, but there’s also an undercut to it that he gets whenever he’s talking about something he’s not 100% comfortable with. “While I was undercover, a couple guys got the jump on me and one of my ‘Mafia brothers’ - Derek. Nothing like a small… bullet to the arm.” 

Amy feels the bottom of her stomach drop from under her, and murmurs, softly, “Oh.” 

_Oh_ seems inadequate, actually. She wants to ask questions. She wants to know everything and nothing at the same time. She wants that scar to disappear, though even looking away seems impossible now.

Jake shrugs. “It’s okay, they... Derek stopped them.” The unsaid fact that Jake had watched Derek either seriously hurt or kill those men hangs in the air. “The Mafia needed to stay off the radar, of course, so going to the hospital was out of the question. But they had a guy who was a… well, close enough to a doctor. He got the bullet out. Using pliers. Yeah, that was _not_ a fun day.”

“That’s…” Amy swallows, but for some reason all she can think to say is, “very negligent.” 

Because it is. All she can think of is how unsanitary that is, how horribly it could’ve gone if that wound had gotten infected. The scar is pretty big, not really immediately recognisable as a bullet wound, not really how the scar from a bullet should look. She can already picture the rough way the bullet had been pulled from his skin, and feels suddenly queasy.

Jake makes a noise that could barely qualify as a chuckle. “You… could say that.” There’s a moment, then he seems to sense her inner panic and anxiety over this, his body shifting closer so their arms touch, tone turning light. “But you know, scars are cool! And a good topic of conversation. Whenever people ask me the story behind it I tell them of how I very heroically saved America singlehanded.” 

“People have asked you about it?” Amy looks at him doubtfully.

“Uh, yes.” He laughs, brows creased as though amazed she would even imply otherwise. He’s good at keeping the tone light, even while talking about things like this. He always has been.

“Who?” 

“Uh— well, at least… one person—”

Yeah, she sees through him, smiling a little. “Me?”

There’s a small pause, before he admits, “Maybe.”

Amy shakes her head, looking away. She’s still smiling, though the image of Jake being shot and sewn up by criminals is fresh in her mind. Jake has that way about him, of making her smile despite terrible circumstances, making her laugh even when she feels like doing anything but. 

“Ah. Hey, listen, Ames. I’m really sorry you missed your date with Teddy tonight.” Jake is frowning, and although this feels partially like a deliberate change of subject, for them both, his apology is clearly genuine. 

“Oh. Don’t worry about it.” Actually, she had totally forgot about that until just now, and has little doubt that when she checks her phone she’ll see a couple of missed calls from Teddy. It’s already half an hour after she was due to meet him. She considers going out to tell him where she is, but decides not to just yet. Teddy can wait a few more minutes. 

“You can still go and meet him if you want,” Jake says. “I’m okay. They’ll probably just stick on a band aid and let me go pretty soon, and I can text Gina or Charles to pick me up, it’s –”

“Jake,” she interrupts. “Stop. I’m not going anywhere. Teddy will understand.” That is probably true. She remembers talking to Teddy about what Jake said when he went undercover, and then what he said when he came back again. She’s been weird, and off, since then – she knows she has. Teddy understands though, he’s always understanding. She wishes that didn’t make her feel guilty. She has no reason to feel guilty. Not about that. 

Jake smiles, ducking his head with a slight nod. “Fair enough.”

Amy gently bumps her shoulder against his (his good one). “My car is covered in your blood, by the way. You owe me to clean it.”

“Whaaaat? What happened to ‘shut the hell up, it doesn’t matter’.”

“I don’t think I said that.”

“I think you did.”

“No.”

“You di-id,” he sing songs. “I remember it clearly. It was a very shocking moment.”

Amy shakes her head. “Shut up, Peralta.”

Jake grins, but it is one of those rare times he does as he’s told and shuts up. 

They only have to wait half an hour until Jake is seen by someone, patched up and given the all clear to go, convinced he’ll be back at work tomorrow as usual. Amy doesn't doubt he will. She texts Teddy while they wait, and calls him on the way to the car once they’ve left the hospital, apologising profusely. He tells her he understands, and they agree to meet up at the weekend. The phone call lasts around three minutes, Teddy mentions Pilsners once, and Amy wishes she could will herself to be more excited about this weekend. 

Jake is waiting patiently by her car after she’s hung up. “Everything cool?”

She smiles, because she’s just been on the phone with her boyfriend and she should feel glad. Everything’s okay. Everything is cool. “Yep, all cool.”

Jake nods slowly, an odd melancholy look on his face, before turning to get into the passenger side of the car.

Amy spends the car ride to the precinct trying not to look at Jake’s arm and doing her best to convince herself everything really is cool.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if this at all seemed kinda mean toward Teddy? Definitely not intended. Amy's just having a lot of Mixed Feelings here.


End file.
